


Keith Kogane's Guide to Extracurricular College Planning

by InkandOwl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Excessive Swearing, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, frat house au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-09-13 17:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9134413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkandOwl/pseuds/InkandOwl
Summary: Alternatively: Keith Kogane's fail proof plan to fall in love, fall into a bottle of alcohol, and fall into a really ugly pair of shorts.“You’re so full of love, you know that Keith? When I met you I thought you were a total fucking wingnut. It was always ‘Oh, this is so incredible’’ and ‘hey, I bet I could fall in love with them.’ Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Keith says nothing, just watches Matt cautiously, like he might turn around and sucker punch him. “That’s real ridiculous. But,” He’s pulling on Keith’s hand, dragging him around the back of the athletics complex, “That’s so fucking beautiful.”





	1. Intramural Drinking

**Author's Note:**

> One day I won't write about frat boys, but not on this day!! I wrote this entire first chapter after a bottle of wine, and then my friend awkwardpandahat beta'd it, but she was drunk on gin, so good luck.

There’s exactly five minutes between Sociology and Medieval Literature, and Keith Kogane Does. Not. Run. It’s too fucking hot outside, and it’s too fucking far, and it’s too fucking uncool. He’s going to make it across campus in fifteen minutes, because he’s already late, so why wouldn’t he stop and get his third cup of coffee? Pidge doesn’t have a class after Sociology, but she walks with him anyway, because the bookstore is close by and she can sit around and read all of the latest issues of her comics without paying for them. 

“I can’t believe you have a flip phone, I hate looking at that thing, you absolute dinosaur.” Pidge whines, long board tucked underneath her arm while Keith taps out a text message. Four clicks for the ‘s’. She’s wearing board shorts and a hoodie and Keith snaps a picture of her, because Lance won’t believe him when he tells him about it later. Pidge just scowls at him, “I’m not a zoo animal.”

 

“I’m not a dinosaur.” He smirks and waves the grainy photo in her face. 

“Whatever, you can’t even tell it’s me anyway, since there’s only, like, four working pixels on that thing.” Pidge reaches into her side pocket and pulls out a pack of Bubblicious, offering one to Keith. “I bought four packs of these yesterday at the student union. I haven’t had it since I was like, eight, and I was stoked. Turns out I remember it with nostalgia goggles, because the flavor fades after a minute or two.” 

Keith takes the gum anyway, peels at the wrapper and frowns at the little bits of paper that have seemingly melted to it. He eats it. Keith likes Pidge. Likes this easy friendship they have, where they wander around campus together and she chatters about pointless shit, like bad bubblegum. Pidge always wears soft vintage tees and smells like men’s deodorant, and still wears big flat skate shoes, despite it being 2017. Keith puts his arm around her shoulder because it feels like something he really wants to do. 

Pidge just hums, and nudges him with her head. He thinks if he were straight, he would like to be in love with her. “Are you coming by the house tonight?” He asks.

He lives in a frat house, which, if you had told high school Keith that, he would’ve laughed at the very idea. But his best friend is Lance Olivarez and nothing about that should be surprising at all. Lance is on the swim team, he’s extroverted and funny, he loves to socialize and thrives on community. Every living, breathing, human being with an attraction to males is in love with him. Including Keith. 

“I’ve got two dollars and seventeen cents.” Keith rummages around in his pocket when they get close to the coffee shop near the English building.

“Maybe it’s a sign from god that you aren’t supposed to get your fiftieth cup of coffee today.” Pidge sniffs, flicking her sunglasses down from the spot on top of her head, and glaring into the sun with great personal offense. 

“Third,” Keith tells her, “and it’s obviously not, because coffee is only two dollars and fifteen cents.” He leans hard against the counter and the girl behind the register looks unamused. 

“Two twenty three, Kogane.” She rolls her eyes and Pidge barks out a humourless laugh.

“Taxes, Keith, you dumb shit.” She reaches into her messenger bag and slams a quarter onto the counter, mumbling about how goddamn embarrassing it is that the baristas all know him by name. “I shouldn’t even be facilitating you with this money. This is enabling. Don’t fucking tell Hunk, I don’t want him to get all sad and disappointed with me again.” 

The barista puts a large black iced coffee on the counter and looks between them, and she gives Keith this sort of sideways smirk, “So are you two a couple? I just see you together all the time and it’s pretty cute.” 

Keith glances sideways at Pidge, who’s still staring into the distance, arms folded across her chest. “Yeah.” He tells her and Pidge just waves goodbye to the girl, resuming her spot next to Keith, so the two of them can continue shuffling away across campus. Keith is wearing zebra print zubaz pants he found on ebay and they clash pretty miserably with the neon green of Pidge’s shorts, so he doesn’t think ‘cute’ was the word to describe them as a duo. Especially when Lance looks up from his phone from the steps he’s sprawled out across at the English building. He meets Keith and Pidge here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He’s a poetry major. 

“What the hell are those?” His voice is so loud and irritating and gets all high pitched at the end of his sentence when he tugs at Keith’s pants. 

“Nice right?” 

“Butt ugly.” Lance grins. He’s wearing skin tight jeans, and a button up shirt rolled up at the elbows, and he looks perfect. Keith growls. “Listen, there’s a party tonight at the house-” “I know” “-so there’s this party, and my sister left a full bottle of Patron in my room.” Keith knows. And he knows that Lance knows he knows. But he’s felt this need to tell Keith absolutely every detail of every moment of his life, even if Keith’s been there for at least 78% of it. It’s like if he doesn’t say it, it never happened. He knows about the bottle of Patron in Lance’s room, because Lance lives in the room directly across the hallway from Keith’s, and when his older sister Lisa has come into town, she had shaken the bottle in Keith’s face and told him, “A gift for my little bro, so that he can wake up with _plenty_ of regrets.” 

“Pidge, please come this time, I always feel like we’re a broken family when you bail on us and decide that hanging out in your room on your computer _like a total loser_ , is better than being around us. Your brother even comes to these things.” Lance pleads and Pidge looks at him like he’s taken a serious blow to the head.

“My brother fucking _lives_ with you guys.” She stops at the front doors to the building, because vampire law dictates she can’t come in unless she’s invited. And because she’s going to go back to the art studio and cover her body in charcoal. “I’ll come I guess, but only because I want to see Hunk and Shiro. And it would be nice to see Keith try and do a keg stand again.” 

Keith gorans and Lance laughs like a merry asshole, slinging his arm around Keith’s shoulder, “Oh my god, you’re right.”

Keith shoves Lance, “Maybe if you didn’t drop me on my head, you ugly fuck.” 

Lance just pulls Keith into a tight embrace and runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, catching every knot along the way, “It’ll never happen again, baby.” 

 

\----

 

It’s not even six o'clock yet and Shiro is rolling up to the Zeta house with three kegs in a god’s honest minivan, like some sort of bad influence soccer mom. “Please don’t park on the lawn.” He rolls the window down and hangs his head out to address the people showing up early. Lance wanders in front of his coasting van, and Shiro hits him with a loud thump. 

“What the fuck, Shiro.” He grumbles, rubbing his hip, nevermind that he only hit him going at the speed of smell. Keith laughs, because it’s the funniest thing he’s seen in about a week. 

“You’re fine, Olivarez.” He slides out of the vehicle and regards him over the top of his sunglasses. Shiro is only two years older than them, but he’s really fucking cool, and looks like he’s in his thirties, and Keith is pretty sure he’s hooking up with his Organic Chemistry professor. “Really though, are you fine?” He’s also the nicest guy in the whole world. 

Lance lifts his shirt to show off smooth, unblemished, absolutely perfect skin, and while he’s flashing Shiro this reassuring smile, Keith is thinking about _licking_ that patch of skin. Keith makes a choked off noise and Lance glances back at him with concern. He doesn’t ask Keith what’s wrong though, just turns his attention to Matt Holt, rolling up to the house on his sister’s long board and promptly turning himself into a projectile the moment he hits the grass. “I have weed!” He yells, rolling onto his back and Shiro just nods seriously, like he’s a soldier that’s just completed an important mission. Matt is a grad student working on becoming an astrophysicist. He also buys his drugs from the campus police, and Keith likes most of all that having Matt around, means having another gay dude around. 

They hooked up a couple times last year and when Pidge found out she almost kicked Keith’s balls clean off. There’s nothing going on between them now, but he still smacks Keith’s ass when he limps up to the house and winks at him. 

“Hey, Maaaatttttttt.” Lance whines his name and follows him inside, and three more people who Keith doesn’t know, push past him like they live there and he doesn’t. 

Zeta Alpha Epsilon is packed to a capacity that Keith is certain would send the fire marshall into cardiac arrest, and he shoves past a group of girls chattering excitedly in the entry way. “Hunk!” He waves down his friend in the kitchen, making a mixed drink for Pidge. “Hey, you came!” Keith slouches against the counter next to her and she smirks this stupid little smirk that shows off her too large teeth. She’s changed into a pair of boxers as shorts and high top vans, with tube socks. “I like your hair clippys” Keith taps the little honey bee attached to her hair. 

“Thanks, stud.” She pinches his side gently, “Hey, don’t fuck my brother tonight.” 

Hunk chuckles like she’s just said something very sweet and Keith pouts, “That’s ridiculous, your brother fucked _me_.” 

There’s a hideous coughing noise behind them and Lance is spitting a drink back into a solo cup, “Wow, already? The night’s just started?”

“And it’s not going to happen, so don’t you worry about it, beautiful.” Matt slides past Lance, hands firmly on his hips, “You can have Kogane all to yourself.”

“Aw thanks!” Lance chirps brightly and Keith wants to sink into hell at this point. 

“Katie!” Matt hugs his sister and she fucking _giggles_ , because she’s a total nut that actually _loves_ her family. “You look so perfect.” He kisses her face and Hunk makes a little cooing noise. Keith hasn’t actually heard Hunk do anything other than make noise so far this night. 

Hunk places a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder, “Let me make you a drink, man.” 

Keith feels like he’s just been embraced by every positive emotion, “Surprise me, big guy.” He leans into Hunk. He smells like sugar cookies and those sandalwood candles he’s always lighting in his room. Hunk is so full of love and about eighty percent of it is for Pidge. 

She doesn’t know because she’s too busy swearing at things that are out of her control. 

Hunk gets to work and hands Keith something that tastes like fruit punch and Keith frowns, “Man, is there alcohol in this?” 

“Five different kinds.” Hunk promises him and Keith trusts that. “Hey, Pidge, I got you a bottle of chardonnay.” Hunk turns to the fridge to present her a bottle like a sommelier, “I think you’ll like it.” 

Pidge eyes it warily, because she _hates_ wine, but Hunk looks so sure about it that she takes the bottle and pushes the cork with her thumb, where it’s already been loosened before the party. She loves it, of course, because Hunk knows exactly what people want. Keith can’t imagine what it would be like to be that in tune to everyone. He wonders if Hunk is tired, because _he’s_ tired, and it’s safe for Keith to imagine everyone is as lost as he is. 

“I can’t watch these two.” Keith mumbles, to no one in particular, but Lance is the closest so maybe him. 

“Hey be my beer pong partner.” Lance pleads, bouncing so closely behind him that the toes of his shoes clip Keith’s heels. “If you don’t, I won’t sleep with you tonight.” 

Keith frowns and mutters about “You weren’t going to sleep with me anyway.” Lance either doesn’t hear him, or chooses to ignore him, and he drags Keith over to a table where Shiro is setting up red solo cups in a pyramid. There’s a girl studying Keith a little too carefully and she finally smirks at him and says,

“Hey, are you two related?” 

Lance is the one standing next to him, so he’s understandably startled and confused by the question. He looks at Lance in panic, “Um, no?” 

“Not to him.” She rolls her eyes and nods her head towards Shiro, “You guys look like brothers.” 

“Also no.” 

“That’s racist.” Lance snorts and Shiro regards them like they’re all talking about the weather. 

Shiro hands the girl a cup full of beer though, “I’m Japanese, he’s Korean.” He says it kindly, but Shiro has a way of making everybody feel like an absolute dumb ass and the girl sort of blushes. 

She brightens up again though and bites her lip, pressing a finger against Keith’s sternum, “Well, you’re pretty cute.” 

Keith lets out a short breathless laugh, “Thanks.” He doesn’t want to use being gay as a self descriptor every time he meets someone, but a label or a name tag would be nice for situations like this. 

“Striking out on everything so far tonight.” Lance takes the wheel for him and pats the girl’s hand. “Go find Hunk, let him make you something, and get your night back on track.” He gently grasps her shoulders and turns her towards the kitchen, sending her off with a kind but definitive shove. As kind as shoving can be. 

Shiro has a cup clenched between his teeth while he rearranges the beer pong layout, and he says, “Sil geddin va ladies wi aydees pans.” Keith makes a confused noise and Shiro puts the cup down, sucking his spit back into his mouth like a gross monster. “I said, you’re still getting the ladies with eighties pants. I’m impressed.” 

“She probably thought it was a conscious decision to look absolutely awful.” Lance eyes Keith like he’s just cursed his mother. Which Keith would never do, because he loves Lance’s mom. Keith doesn’t answer him, just looks around at the people mingling, and Lance nudges him and nudges him, because he literally can’t continue existing unless he’s provoked some sort of response out of Keith. 

He’s been like this since they were kids. When they first met Lance would needle him until Keith was reduced to tears, and then Keith would tell him he didn’t want to be his friend anymore and then _Lance_ would be reduced to tears. It’s a sick way to build a friendship, but it worked for them. And then his mean-ness became lovable teasing mean-ness, and Keith would laugh and laugh at Lance’s stupid insults and Lance would get this soft look and bite his lip so that he didn’t laugh too loud. He would wrinkle his stupid pointy nose at Keith and smile with his perfect white teeth and Keith would get butterflies in his stomach and stare at his feet so that he didn’t do something stupid like try and kiss him.

“I’ll let you borrow them sometime.” Keith promises and Lance opens his mouth, no doubt with an awful retort, when the front door swings open and Rolo Rodriguez holds up a bottle of tequila. 

“Oh, Keith, baby, I should’ve known yours would be the first face I saw when I got here.” He’s got his roommate Nyma stalking in behind him like a predator. Lance moves in front of Keith slightly, and Keith isn’t even sure he’s aware he’s doing it, and he feels Shiro’s hand tight on his shoulder. “What, no hello for an old friend?” 

Keith swallows hard, “Hey, Rolo.” He hates how tense he sounds, that their stupid sordid past hangs out on every word out of his mouth. “It’s been a while.” 

“About a year.” Rolo reminds him. But he brushes a strand of Keith’s hair out of his eyes and his voice goes soft, “I’m not here to make things awkward, we can still be friends, right?” 

It’s what Keith had said to him when they broke up, but there’s surprisingly no malice in the way Rolo says it. Keith sighs and nods, “Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. It’s all- fine.” 

Rolo lets his fingertips ghost over Keith’s collarbone and smiles. He glances sideways at Lance, “Calm down, Olivarez, you won.” He leans close to Lance’s face, and when the apparent confusion leaks into his expression, Rolo looks back at Keith with his eyebrows raised high on his forehead, “Oh? Well, I guess not.” He presses the bottle of tequila into Keith’s hand and stalks away, Nyma waving at him as she follows behind.

Keith thinks he might throw up. “What’s he talking about, Keith?” Lance has this oddly aggressive way of speaking when he’s confused and Keith shrugs.

“Nothing, he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. You know how he is.” There was never a point in history where Lance and Rolo got along, so it’s an easy lie. “Don’t let him ruin your night, Lance.” 

Lance looks desperately at Shiro then back at Keith, “He’s _your_ ex, you don’t have to try and comfort _me_.” Lance take the tequila from Keith, “Hey, but alcohol!” He shakes the bottle in Keith’s face and Keith’s happy for the subject change. He knows Lance did it on purpose. 

“Are you gonna go get shot glasses?” Keith asks while Lance twists the cap open.

“Take it from the bottle like a man.” Shiro nods firmly and Lance laughs, a quick, infectious thing, placing the tequila gently in Keith’s grip. 

Keith narrows his eyes at the challenge and presses the bottle to his lips, taking a long pull of the alcohol. It burns in all the places Keith needs it to right now.


	2. Student Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything in Keith's life is fucking awful and he doesn't know who Taylor is

Keith’s mouth tastes like socks and roadkill and his head feels like he’s dragged it across pavement. He doesn’t want to open his eyes, but there’s a heavy weight across his torso and it’s warm and organic feeling. There’s a mass of curly blonde hair in his face and Keith has never seen this boy in his life. He’s fully clothed though, and laying on the living room couch, and he knows for a fact he didn’t have sex last night so he sighs. Hunk is sitting on the floor rubbing his eyes and wearing a shirt that says ‘Tommy Moose thinks internet safety is cool!’, and he waves at Keith like it’s taking all his energy just to move his fingers. It take Keith a moment to register that Pidge is curled up in Hunk’s lap like a poorly dressed cat. 

“She’s so tiny.” Keith marvels, and it isn’t the first time he’s had this realization, it’s just the first time he’s felt the need to vocalize it to Hunk. Hunk just pets Pidge’s head lightly, “Who is this?” Keith whispers, nodding his head awkwardly to the boy laying on top of him. 

Hunk squints at the kid, “Think that’s Tyler from the soccer team.” 

“Oh,” Keith stares up at the ceiling, and tries not to think about how absolutely dead his limbs feel, “He looks like he’s twelve.” 

Maybe-Tyler grunts, “I’m nineteen.” He mutters and rolls gracelessly off of Keith. “And my name is Taylor, not Tyler.” Keith winces as his back pops and he notices at least four other people sleeping in the living room. “Hey, we didn’t like-” Taylor-not-Tyler gestures between them and turns an awful shade of red.

“Have sex? No.” Keith tries to run his fingers through the knots in his hair and winces, “I think I was just a convenient pillow for you.” 

The kid relaxes so dramatically Keith thinks he would laugh if his head didn’t hurt so fucking badly. “That’s good. Not that there’s anything wrong with you, I just- I’m not gay.” 

“Oh, boy.” Keith presses the palms of his hands hard against his eyes and Hunk snorts, “It’s cool, man, i’m sure your regrets are small potatoes compared to other people’s this morning.” 

“Like Lance.” Hunk snickers and Keith twists his face up in confusion. From what he can remember of Lance last night, he was relatively well behaved and. Hunk lays Pidge gently on a makeshift nest of blankets and his own hoodie and rubs her back when she yawns. 

Taylor is pulling his shoes on, apologizing to Keith for sleeping on top of him, but Keith could give two shits, “What did Lance do last night?” He’s being obvious but Hunk doesn’t notice. 

He stands up and stretches, “He went back to his room with Nyma, so who knows if he survived. Do you want some bacon?”

Keith never thought the day would come where bacon sounded unappetizing, but here they are. “Nyma-” He groans her name and Hunk peers at him from the kitchen.

“I know right? So beautiful but so- manipulative?” He shakes his head and disappears. Taylor looks genuinely concerned for Keith, which is fucking laughable, because this is the kid who had a mild gay panic about passing out on someone. 

“Is she, like- your ex, or something?” Taylor only has one shoe on and Keith can’t be _that_ annoyed with him. He shakes his head and Taylor rests his hand on Keith’s knee, all gentle and caring, “Is Lance your ex?” 

Pidge laughs from her spot on the floor, and it’s muffled in the mass of sheets. Keith’s glad someone is having fun right now. “No, man, it’s cool.” He rubs his face in his hands and gives Taylor a thumbs up. 

“Could you imagine dating someone like _Lance_.” Pidge is still laughing, and Keith suspects she’s still a little drunk. She rolls over to look at Keith, bottom lip pulled between her massive front teeth, waiting for him to joke with her.

Keith presses his eyes shut tight, because, _yes_ , he could imagine dating someone like Lance. “No, oh my god, how dumb.” He mutters in the most unconvincing voice he’s ever conjured and Pidge props herself up on her elbows, eyebrows pulled together in concern.

“Keith?” She’s sitting up now and Keith picks at the throw blanket next to him. “Oh. _Oh_ , Keith.” The pitying tone is horrifying and Taylor is awkwardly stroking his foot and lasts night alcohol makes his joints ache and he doesn’t even know he’s crying until Pidge is climbing into his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner, I wouldn’t have been so dick about it.” Pidge tells him softly, leaning away enough to wipe the tears off of his face. 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t ever have to tell anyone.” Keith confesses, bottom lip wobbling.

“Well,” Pidge gently rubs the back of his neck, “Fucking alcohol, am I right?” 

Keith laughs and it sounds more like a whimper, and Hunk comes out of the kitchen holding a loaf of bread and wearing an apron. He takes one look at Keith and shoves the bread into Taylor’s hands, “Make us some toast.” He demands and Taylor scampers away like a scolded child. “Did that little shit stain do something to you?” His voice is murderous and he takes Keith’s face in his hands. 

“No, leave him alone, Hunk.” He pats Hunk’s hand. “I’m okay, i’m just having hangover emotions.” He promises. 

Hunk looks to Pidge, who just nods. “I’ll be back.” She slides from Keith’s lap, and for a moment, Keith is afraid that Hunk is going to take her place. He plops down on the couch next to him instead. 

“What’s this all about?” Hunk has an arm draped over the back of the couch. Keith like confiding in Hunk, in fact, he does it more than he probably should. But Hunk is Lance’s best friend, and a part of him is afraid that he’s stepping over a line by telling him. So he just shrugs like a dumb ass. There’s a loud banging noise upstairs and some yelling and Keith looks at Hunk, who’s just leaning into the cushions with his eyes close. 

More thumping. “Pidge is aggressive.” Keith says and Hunk hums. 

“She’s a girl that knows what she wants. And something tells me she’s not chasing Nyma out of Lance’s room for personal gain.” He opens one eye and looks over at Keith.

“Does absolutely everyone in the world know?” Keith feels pissed off then and Hunk holds up his hands in surrender.

“No.” He watches Nyma stomp down the stairs as loudly as humanly possible and grab her sweater off the coffee table. She points at Hunk angrily, “Your girlfriend is fucking insane.” She snaps and slams the front door behind her. Keith flinches. His head is pounding. 

Hunk chuckles, a low rumble in his chest, “I think your secret is relatively safe. Although, maybe you shouldn’t be keeping it secret.” 

“What the absolute _fuck_ , Pidge.” Lance is only wearing pajama pants and Pidge has her lips in a stubborn pout as he trails her down the stairs. “Why does it matter that she’s here, you don’t even live here, this isn’t-”

“Go fuck yourself, Lance.” She snaps her fingers under his nose and Lance glares at her. “Are you- are you honestly asking me why Nyma shouldn’t be here?” 

Lance at least has the decency to look embarrassed then, “Listen, we’re not dating, it was just for fun.” He holds his arms out and Pidge rolls her eyes. He notices Hunk and Keith awake and drops himself next to Keith. His neck and chest are covered in hickeys and Keith groans. Lance is staring _way_ to hard at Keith’s face. “You’re upset about Nyma?”

Keith dares to look at Lance, “She slashed my tires, dude.” 

Lance frowns, cheek resting against the back of the couch, “Is that why you were crying?” Keith startles, he didn’t think it would be noticeable. “Your eyes are all red and your nose is pink,” He touches the tip of Keith’s nose, “right here.” 

Taylor shuffles out of the kitchen with a plate of toast, “Hey, I put some jelly and butter on the table.” He says, and when he sees Lance he actually narrows his eyes at him a little bit. Keith thinks he might start laughing. 

Lance definitely notices and reels back a little, “And who are you?” 

“I’m Taylor.” He says defiantly, “I slept with Keith last night.” 

Keith inhales some spit and proceeds to choke and Hunk laughs loud enough to wake up two other people in the living room, smacking Keith on the back. Taylor grins at Keith like he just did him a huge favor. Lance looks like he’s just witnessed an alien abduction. 

“What. The goddamn. Keith.” Lance digs his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes.

Hunk and Pidge join Taylor in the kitchen, relieving him of his toast and promising him a permanent place in the Zeta house. “We didn’t sleep together. Okay, we- like, he slept _on_ me, but we didn’t. Have sex.” Keith explains. 

Lance watches him seriously for a second and smiles, “That’s so weird, Keith, I don’t know how you get into the situations you do.” He reaches over the side of the couch and grabs a T-Shirt that most definitely _does not_ belong to him, and pulls it over his head. “Are you super made about Nyma? I know she was super shitty to you after you and Rolo split, but it didn’t mean anything. Just a hookup.” He flicks Keith’s knuckles.

“I don’t like her, Lance. But i’m not going to tell you what to do.” He says and Lance looks like he’s in pain, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“I hate when you do that.” He says softly, “When you get all disappointed sounding. It makes me feel like a big fuck-up.” 

Keith sighs and kicks at Lance’s shin gently, “C’mon, don’t do that. I’m not trying to make you feel like more of a failure than you already are.” Lance glances up at Keith and smiles, huge and blinding and Keith snorts. 

“I love you, Keeks.” Lance says it almost shyly and Keith has to force himself off the couch.

“Yeah, okay.” He waves Lance off and shuffles away to drown his hungover feelings in toast. 

\---

 

Matt and Shiro are passing a joint between them on the front porch and Keith think’s it’s ridiculous, since they’re both wearing cardigans. Shiro’s even has elbow patches. “How many is that?” Keith asks and Matt looks exactly like his sister in those heart shaped sunglasses. 

Shiro thinks about it, takes a hit, and just says, “Keith, when’s the last time you washed your hair?” 

“Don’t start judging me.” Keith shifts his backpack on his shoulder, “And I washed it last night, if you’re really concerned.” 

Matt leans forward, pushing his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, “Learn how to rinse the conditioner out of your hair better, you look like you’re rolling out of Burning Man all the time.” 

Keith’s annoyed. He has to be in class in thirty minutes, “I didn’t come back here to be thrown to the lions.” He never really cared about the way he looked before, but the past month has been trying on him, and now he contemplates skipping class to take another shower. 

Shiro knows. “Keith, we’re just teasing you.” Mat looks at Shiro like he most definitely wasn’t joking, “What are you doing back at the house, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I have time.” Keith tells him, “I left my attendance clicker.” 

Shiro nods happily, hands the joint to Matt and stares across the lawn. Keith drags himself up the stairs, and is about to stumble into his room when he hears Pidge’s voice. It’s muffled and coming from Lance’s room, which is odd. He doesn’t _want_ to eavesdrop, but he hears Pidge call Lance an insensitive ass. She’s not wrong. 

He knocks on the door lightly and their voices stop. Lance greets him with a tired smile, “Hey, man.” 

Keith awkwardly waves his hand, “Uh, hey, I heard you guys- arguing?- anyway, I thought Pidge might want to walk with me since we have class together?” 

Pidge appears behind Lance and exchanges a guilty look with him. Keith swallows hard. “Um, you- you heard all that?” Lance pushes his hair off his forehead and leans against the door frame. 

“Not really. I just heard your voices. Listen-” He nods back towards his room, “I’m just gonna go ahead and go, you guys are obviously sorting some shit out.” 

He regrets knocking on Lance’s door. He hates feeling like the odd man out. That’s there’s this great well of knowledge and information that runs deep in the Zeta house, but absolutely not for him. And he hates feeling this tiny hidden anger deep in his chest for the people who are supposed to be his best friends. Pidge darts out from underneath Lance’s arm, “I’ll walk with you, Keith, we weren’t up to anything important.” 

She’s lying to him and Keith says nothing, just shuffles awkwardly into his room and grabs his clicker off his night stand, pushing past Pidge when he leaves. She follows him loudly down the stairs, combat boots thumping on each step, and calls his name at least four times by the time he’s halfway across the lawn. “What, Pidge?” 

She blinks at him behind her glasses, expression slightly shocked. “Keith, are you mad?” She’s wearing a little green sundress that makes her look like a child. 

“No.” He turns and stomps down the sidewalk, “Yes.” He snaps, and turns on his heels then. “Yeah, I don’t know why you were fighting with Lance, but I feel like it has something to do with me.” 

Pidge has to jog to keep up with him, “I was just mad that he thought Nyma was a good idea, after everything that happened-”

“With me!” Keith yells, “It happened with me, Pidge, not you, or Hunk, or fucking Taylor from the soccer team. Stop fighting my battles- it’s not even a fucking battle.” He feels a bit hysterical. “This-” he gestures between himself and the house, “Is not something new. This has been going on since I was thirteen and he taught me how to slow dance in his parents kitchen. This, total bullshit, is just that- total bullshit- but it’s mine, and I might be in love with Lance for the rest of my life, but he’s one of my best friends and that’s good enough. It _has_ to be good enough.” Keith’s voice cracks and Pidge has her hands pressed over her mouth, eyes wide on something just behind Keith. 

“Keith.” His name sounds painful coming from Lance and Keith feels his blood run cold in his veins. He does the only thing he can think to do in the situation and shoves past Lance, shoulder clipping him hard, “Wait, Keith.” Lance looks so fucking sad and Keith’s stomach hurts so bad. 

He grabs Keith’s wrist and Keith wrenches it from his grip, “Lance, seriously, fuck off.” 

Lance holds his hands against his chest, lips parted like he wants to keep talking, but Keith turns and walks away. He’s vaguely aware of Shiro yelling his name, but his feet aren’t stopping, and nothing Shiro has to say to him is going to fix any of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor Keith
> 
> Maybe they'll realize it's all a big miscommunication?
> 
> Probably not


	3. Swimming Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We accept the love we think we deserve_  
>  - _the Perks of Being a Wallflower_

Keith is shaking when he gets to class, and he’s glad it’s a lecture with three hundred plus students, because no one is going to notice the boy with trembling hands barely holding it together in the back of class. His phone is buzzing almost violently in his backpack, and he can’t even bring himself to silence it for fear of seeing the texts on his home screen. Someone sits next to him, bumps into his shoulder and he closes his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. 

“You’re a really fucking, _brisk_ , walker.” Matt huffs out, flannel shirt rolled up to the elbows. Keith watches Matt like a cornered animal and Matt adjusts his glasses, leans back in his chair, “Oh, man, I hated this class.” 

Keith grips the edge of his seat, “You don’t have to be here.” 

“I do.” Matt snaps, face suddenly serious, “Keith, I would ask you if you’re okay, but obviously, you’re not.” He takes out a notebook and pen and clicks it dramatically, eyes turned towards the professor. He makes a picture perfect student. 

“I don’t even know how i’m supposed to go back to the house tonight.” Keith admits and Matt drums his fingers against his desk.

“That’s a bit dramatic. You think Lance is going to what? Gay bash you? Kick you out? Yell at you?” He still not looking at Keith, “You think Lance could ever hate you?” 

Keith doesn’t even want to hear his name, because it makes his stomach turn over and his eyes burn, “I was a huge asshole to your sister, I’m sure she’s pissed at me too.” 

Pidge is a safe territory between them, he thinks. Matt’s fiercely protective of her, which is why it surprises him when he quirks an eyebrow at Keith and says, “She had no business interfering like that. Her heart was in the right place, but Katie has absolutely no finesse. Not every situation in life needs to be solved with her bluntness.” The kid in front of them shushes them when the professor walks in and Matt flips him off. 

“Press A for attendance, please.” The professor spouts off and suddenly it’s a lecture hall full of insane clicking, names flashing, rapid fire, across the projected screen. Keith sighs and clicks A. Matt hums, a happy little sound, “I didn’t know your middle name is Leander, that’s adorable.” 

Keith grits his teeth, “Don’t tell anyone that.” It’s not a well kept secret, his name is on every school ordained paper he has lying around haphazardly in his room. He just likes the idea that he might have something for himself. Just one, little, dumb fuck thing. 

“You ever go swimming with your clothes on?” Matt ignores him and Keith wonders if the amount of weed he’s smoked has finally taken a toll on his brain. 

“No.” He tells him honestly. He doesn’t really swim much at all, because he’s not really good at it, and it would be incredibly embarrassing if he drowned and his best friend is on the swim team. 

“It’s therapeutic.” Matt shoves his things back into this backpack, and does the same to Keith’s. He takes his clicker and leans over to the girl in the row in front of them, two people down from the boy that shushed them, “Hey, Alice, phone on this for me, will you?” 

The girl winks at Matt and Keith finds himself being dragged out of the lecture hall. “Katie told me that taking a shower with your socks on is supposed to help with anxiety or something. I tried it and I felt totally miserable, so I started swimming with my clothes on instead. Used to sneak right into the neighbor’s pool.” He’s talking a mile a minute, Keith think’s he’s doing it on purpose so that Keith doesn’t have the time to sit on his own thoughts. “You’re so full of love, you know that Keith? When I met you I thought you were a total fucking wingnut. It was always ‘Oh, this is so incredible’’ and ‘hey, I bet I could fall in love with them.’ Do you know how ridiculous that is?” Keith says nothing, just watches Matt cautiously, like he might turn around and sucker punch him. “That’s _real_ ridiculous. But,” He’s pulling on Keith’s hand, dragging him around the back of the athletics complex, “That’s so fucking beautiful.” 

Keith blinks hard, because he thinks he might start crying and he doesn’t really know why. Matt puts his hands on Keith’s face, so close that Keith could probably count every single one of Matt’s freckles. He kisses Keith softly. Just a careful press of his lips against Keith’s and Keith knows that it isn’t romantic, that Matt isn’t interested in Keith like that, despite their past fling. “I hope he’s not so stupid that he passes up kissing that pouty little mouth every single morning for the rest of his life.” And then Keith _is_ crying, big salty tears that fog up his vision and he lets out a noise so pitiful that Matt actually gets paler than he already is, “Fuck, alright, we gotta go swimming.” 

Keith doesn’t know how Matt knows the security code to get into the olympic size swimming pool, but it’s not really surprising. Even the lobby smells like chlorine and Matt drags him through the side door, into the locker rooms and onto the pool deck. Lance loves swimming. He can hold his breath for ages and swim so far down and so quickly. Keith doesn’t want to think about him right now, or he does, _he’s just really really unsure_. Matt yanks his backpack off of him and pats him down, yanking his car keys out of his pocket and tossing them aside. He walks Keith to the edge like he’s walking the plank. “What do I do?” 

Mat snorts, “Just, jump in.” 

The gym is dark, but the back up lights are still on, so really it’s just an odd blue glow everywhere, and the hum of the filters is almost deafening. He’s wearing a hoodie, and jeans, and socks and sneakers and he thinks he’ll probably sink like a stone. Keith closes his eyes. And he jumps. 

It’s like being in a different world, underwater, and Keith lets himself sink completely to the bottom, only looking up at the muffled splash of Matt jumping in. The pool is heated and Keith feels like he’s in suspension, it’s so calm. And he can feel himself grinning. He kicks off the bottom and breaks the surface in time for Matt to sling his hair out of his face, whipping Keith with water. “There’s so much chlorine in this pool, my skins going to clear up instantly.” He’s taken his glasses off and he’s staring at Keith all wide eyed, despite being probably completely blind. 

“It feels really nice in here.” Keith admits, “It’s fucking hard to swim in sneakers though.” 

“Yeah, no kidding. Hey, wanna have a diving contest?” 

Keith bites his lip, but a laugh escapes him. And, yeah, he totally wants to have a fucking diving contest. 

 

\---

They swim for hours. Keith’s fingers are all pruny and his stomach is rumbling, probably from burning all of his energy, but he feels lighter. He pulls Matt into a tight, heavy hug and Matt pats him on the back, hands making a loud slapping noise against Keith’s wet clothes. “I don’t know why that helped, but it really did.” 

Matt picks his glasses up off the bleachers and presses them onto his face, “Because, when shitty shit happens, we have to remind ourselves that there’s still really cool shit out there. It might not go how you want it, Keith, but it will go. You’ll still have your friends, and weird aesthetic, and your propensity for love, and swimming with clothes on. You’ll always have me and Pidge and Shiro and Hunk. And Lance too, if you want him there, even if it’s just as a friend.” 

Keith chews on the inside of his cheek and loops his arm through Matt’s, “Shitty shit, huh?” 

“That’s all you got from that?” Matt glances sideways at him and they sneak back out through the locker rooms. 

“Yeah, definitely.” Keith teases, and the night air is cool against his skin when they get outside “I do want him there.” He says when Matt joins him, “Lance, that is. I want him there- in my life- because I like him being my best friend. I told him to fuck off though, I should say sorry.” 

Matt is holding his shoes and socks in one hand and he makes a noise, “Yeah, I heard that. A lot of people heard that, actually. You made him cry dude, that was fucked up.” 

Keith’s stomach turns when they wander to the bus stop to head back towards Greek Row. “He cried?” 

“Yeah,” Matt collapses onto the bench and pats the seat next to him, “Not like, sobbing or anything, just all watery eyed and he stood around on the sidewalk like an abandoned puppy waiting for its owner to come back. Tragic.” 

The bus driver scowls at them when they get on, dripping wet and ruining his perfectly disgusting seats.

Shiro is still sitting on the porch when they get back and Keith thinks he probably did move, but fate put him right back on the swinging bench. He’s wearing pajamas now too, staring across the lawn like a GQ garden gnome. “You guys go swimming?” Shiro smiles, and it’s warm and genuine. Keith rubs the back of his neck tiredly.

“Yeah, it was therapy, Holt style.” Matt says and thumps Keith on the back, “Hey, I’m gonna hang out here, watch the sunset. The little things you know?” 

Keith knows. Matt’s sending him off to face his problems like a big boy and he nods. Pidge is sitting on the living room couch playing Doom. Her face is sheer concentration but Keith clears his throat and he sees the pause screen go up. She turns around so quickly on the couch, Keith is afraid she’s going to fall over it. “Hey.” He says lamely and winces.

Pidge is staring at him like he might bolt, “Hey.” 

“Um, I wanted to-” Keith has to clear his throat a few more times and he runs his hands over the front of his damp hoodie, “I wanted to say i’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.” 

Pidge says nothing, just climbs over the couch like an animal and inserts herself into Keith’s arms, “Why _the fuck_ are you wet?” She grimaces and Keith laughs. 

“Your brother took me swimming.” 

“Ah” She says it like she understands completely, “You don’t have to apologize, Keith, I mean, you were totally a dick, but a warranted dick. I was a dick too.” 

“Dicks ahoy” Keith nods and Hunk comes out of the bathroom with a pleased grin.

“Just don’t leave them out in the house. This is sacred grounds.” He’s got a cooking spoon in his hand and Keith doesn’t want the reasoning behind it going to the bathroom with him.

“I don’t think I would call the Zeta house sacred.” Pidge grumbles. 

Keith wonders if Hunk knows. He wasn’t outside during Keith’s meltdown, but he is good friends with Lance. “True. So, Lance is in the kitchen.” Well, mystery solved. 

“Thanks.” Keith says and Hunk hands him his spoon when he passes by. There’s a pot boiling on the stove in the kitchen, and someone’s decided to brew coffee even though it’s the evening, and slouched against the counter just sort of staring at a box of spaghetti noodles is Lance. He’s wearing what Keith calls his ‘comfort shirt’. Their middle school gym t-shirt with his last name written in sharpie across the front, and washed so many times it’s threadbare in places. Keith doesn’t know what to say so he knocks on the doorframe. Lance startles and almost drops the box and his eyes go wide when he sees him.

“Keith, I-” He sort of pivots awkwardly and decides to place the spaghetti on the counter. Then he looks around like he regrets having nothing in his hands to occupy him, and elects to twist them in the hem of his shirt instead. “I-” He’s suffering and Keith sighs.

“Hi, Lance.” He moves fully into the kitchen then, lets the door swing shut behind him. “Are you alright?” 

Lance looks like Keith’s hit him, “I’m- yeah Keith, i’m fine. Are you- can I do anything?” 

Keith moves closer, leans against the island in the middle of their kitchen, “I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t ever want to put you in that sort of situation, that was super fucked up.” He’s suddenly aware how freezing it is in their house, in his wet clothes, with his damp hair. Lance makes a noise like he’s going to try and comfort Keith, “Don’t- don’t try to make me feel better, I know you. I want you to know that you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose you. I don’t expect anything from you, and I don’t want you to leave me alone, I just want you to stay my friend. Okay?” He swallows hard, “And I shouldn’t have told you to fuck off. At least not this time.” 

Lance is quiet, which is alien in and of itself, and finally he lets his anxious hands fall to his sides. “I want that too. I was afraid you never wanted to talk to me again. I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Find someone else to piss off all the time, I’m sure.” Keith sniffs and Lance laughs. It’s soft but it’s there and Keith loves the sound. “Can I hug you?” 

Lance doesn’t answer him, just crosses the small distance between them and sweeps Keith up into his arms, burying his face in Keith’s neck. “Keith?” 

“Hmm?”

“Why do you smell like chlorine?” His voice is muffled in Keith’s hood but he makes no sign of moving. Keith closes his eyes, breathes in Lance’s apple scented shampoo and saps his warmth like a parasite. 

“Went swimming in that pool you love so very much. Matt took me, we had a diving contest. With our shoes on.” 

Lance tugs at a piece of Keith’s hair, hanging in a dirty clump in his eyes. He laughs, loud and carefree, “You’re so weird, Keeks. Was it worth it for the aesthetic? In that moment, did you feel infinite?” 

“Incredibly.” Keith unzips his hoodie, tugs at the shirt clinging to his chest, “Don’t slander Perks of Being a Wallflower like that.” He bites back and Lance just laughs more. 

“You can get it tattooed to your ass cheek like the hipster you are, and that other line you used to quote.” Lance waves his hand and Keith huffs out a laugh, staring at his shoes.

“We accept the love we think we deserve.” He mumbles.

“What’s that?” 

“That’s the quote.” Keith balls his hoodie up, “It’s ‘We accept the love we think we deserve’.” 

Lance carefully extracts a spaghetti noodle from the box and nibbles on the end of it, “Hmm.” He glances into the pot then back at Keith, beaming with that hundred watt smile. “So are we still on for kickball against Alpha Phi next week? _The Galra_.” 

Keith nods, “Yeah, obviously. I’m gonna take a shower.” He shuffles towards the door. 

“Hey,” Lance bounces between his feet, “I’m glad we’re okay.” 

There’s still a tight ache in his chest, and Lance’s voice still makes something stir in Keith’s gut, but he’s happy, “I’m glad too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *muffled Everybody Hurts in the distance*


	4. Professional Kickball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning: Sexual Content in this chapter**

“The thing is i’m not very- _quick_.” Hunk spins his yellow bandana deftly in his hands before tying it around his forehead. 

“Yeah, but that leg is a fucking canon.” Lance has on a blue bandana and Keith isn’t sure what the color scheme is here. He hands Keith a red one and Lance smiles sweetly, “It matches your hair tie.”

Keith makes a little ‘ah’ noise and Shiro comes up behind him, purple bandana neatly in place, and leans heavy on Keith’s shoulders, digging his thumbs into his back in some sort of god awful massage. Keith makes a much louder ‘ah’ sound. “This is such an incredible team, we’re going to demolish the Alpha house. A complete slaughter.” Shiro leans down even harder, and Keith thinks he might collapse. He’s not strong enough to hold up Shiro’s beefy weight. 

“I wish Pidge could play with us, she’s so quick.” Hunk laments and Keith imagines that at least half of the reason he wants Pidge to play with them is so that he has more of a reason to be around her. 

“I wish Keith’s-not-gay-boyfriend was playing too.” Lance huffs

“Taylor?” Keith beams. He likes Taylor, they’re friends sort of. He waves to Keith on campus and they shared earbuds on the shuttle two days ago. 

“A soccer player _would_ be nice.” Matt skulks out into the living room, pink bandana tied around the back of his head so that it sits in a neat little bow amongst his fluffy hair. “Professor Coran is reffing. He’s probably more excited about it than Shiro is.” 

Coran is the professor that Matt TA’s for, and he wears tweed and sometimes sweater vests and has a mighty mustache. He’s also Professor Allura’s uncle and spends a lot of time side eye-ing Shiro about their not so subtle affair. “I wish Pidge was reffing.” Hunk mutters and Matt scoffs so loudly that it startles Shiro off of Keith’s back. Keith is hugely appreciative.

“Just fuck her already, oh my god. I can’t deal with this back and forth with you two.” Matt cries, and Hunk splays his hand across his chest like a faint of heart maiden. “By the way, she tells me _at least_ five times a day how handsome/sweet/funny/ you are and if you ask her really nicely I bet she’ll suck your-”

“Matt, that’s your sister, jesus!” Lance looks mildly horrified. Not as much as Hunk, but it’s close.

“Yeah?” Matt rolls his eyes, “And out of all the chucklefucks in this house, Hunk is easily the best person here.” His expression softens and he sighs, “Hunk, look, she loves you. Just ask her out please. And then hold her hand and maybe kiss her cheek or whatever doesn’t offend your delicate sensibilities.” 

Hunk turns bright red and Lance bumps his whole body into Hunk’s side, “That’s so sweet, dude.” 

Hunk bites his lip, but he’s grinning and Keith wants to hug him because _it is sweet_. “You’re all blushy.” Keith points out with a laugh and Hunk just gets redder and hides his face behind his hands. Lance makes an “awww’-ing noise and pushes on Hunk.

“You two are ridiculous, leave Hunk alone.” Shiro reprimands them, “Besides, it’s kickball night, we need to get our heads in the game.”

Keith and Lance both yell out “Wildcats!” at the same time and dissolve into laughter and Shiro has to be comforted by Matt.

“You walked into it, man.” He pats Shiro’s arm sympathetically. “It’s never fun to be on the receiving end of a K and L assault.” 

“Aww, there’s a name for us.” Lance abandons Hunk to come sit next to Keith.

“Cute.” Keith huffs, and Lance runs his hand down Keith’s back gently, enough to make Keith shiver and he hopes Lance doesn’t feel it. But he doesn’t move his hand away, just leaves it resting on Keith’s lower back and Keith has to rub his hands hard against his basketball shorts to distract himself. Lance is a tactile human, he’s spent a better part of their friendship finding any reason to insert himself into Keith’s personal space, but this feels different, and Keith almost passes out with relief when Pidge barrels her way through the front door with Allura in tow, both of them wearing homemade Zeta shirts. 

“I’m so ready for this game!” She yells and Shiro whoops and gives her a high five, excited to see someone who might just be matching him in energy. 

 

\---

 

The lights on the Intramural sports field are blinding and Keith tosses the rubber kickball between his hands from center field. He’s sweaty and slid into home last inning, so there’s dirt caked all along his right side, but Sendak is standing in front of him, looking for all the world like he wants nothing more than to kill Keith with his bare fists. Their team is wearing matching purple shirts and Keith almost wishes that their own house was even half that coordinated. Lance is holding down first base and whistling loudly and Keith glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Lance smirks. 

Keith rolls the ball and it’s perfect, straight down the middle. Sendak leans down like he’s bored and scoops the ball up, tossing it back to Keith. “Too bouncy, do it again.” 

Keith wants to roll his eyes, but he catches the ball and rolls again, this time slower so that it rolls. Sendak shakes his head and picks the ball up again, “Did anyone ever teach you how to roll a ball?” 

“Did anyone ever teach you how to fucking kick?” Keith bites back and Hunk giggles like a schoolgirl on the home plate. Sendak bares his teeth at Keith, “Ready, sweetheart?” 

“Roll the fucking ball, pretty boy.” 

Keith places his hand over his heart and looks at Lance, “He thinks I’m pretty.” 

“Roll. The. Ball.” Sendak is shaking mad and Lance is laughing now, so Keith counts it as a victory and rolls the ball. Sendak’s fury goes one hundred percent into his kick and it comes whistling at Keith’s face. Keith catches it with a horrible ringing noise that echoes around the field and the crowd watching them visibly flinches. He wants to drop the ball because his hands feel like they’re on fire, but he hangs onto it and tucks it underneath his arm. The Zeta house is cheering, Hunk telling Sendak to move his ass off of home. The houses switch sides and Keith flexes his hands, tossing the ball to Thace on the way back to the sidelines. 

“That was so fucking cool.” Lance is practically vibrating and Keith give him a pained smile. Lance’s expression grows mildly concerned and he grabs Keith’s hands, sadly brushing his fingertips over Keith’s stinging palms.

Matt’s up first to kick for them, and he adjusts his glasses, sauntering onto the field. The Alpha’s snicker at his small stature, so it’s rewarding when Matt lightly kicks the ball so that it skitters across the field. Thace takes his time trotting after it, and when he turns around, Matt is already halfway to third. He offers Thace a small wave from third when he stops.

Lance is up next and he chases Matt off third, scoring them enough points to put them at game point. Keith’s on second, stinging palms a distant memory, and the Zeta’s pull out their weapon. Hunk yawns when he steps up, making a pit stop at the bleachers. He tugs on the neon green ribbon in Pidge’s hair and wraps it around his wrist like a favor, kissing her knuckles before taking his place at the base. There’s whooping from the bleachers and Allura’s is positively swooning on Pidge’s behalf, who is staring at Hunk like he just put the stars in the sky. Lance wolf whistles. Even Thace grins a little. 

Hunk kicks like he’s in slow motion. He winds his leg back and meets the ball with a force so strong, Keith never even sees it leave the ground. He’s only aware that the ball even exists still because it whistles over his head, ruffling his hair in its wake and soars into the darkness. Hunk _skips_ across the bases, gently linking his hand with Keith’s and then Lance as he drags them all home. Lance is practically climbing Hunk, legs wrapped around Hunk’s chest and arms around his head like the world’s lankiest hat. The rest of the Zeta house has swarmed them, as well as half the bleachers, pressing Keith right up against Hunk, but he doesn’t care. He’s coursing with adrenaline. Hunk extracts Lance from his being and sets him down gently, parting people like the red sea when he literally sweeps Pidge off her feet and dips her down in a heated kiss. Keith laughs, he feels light, he feels _happy_. But then he makes eye contact with Lance, who’s looking at him strange, and gives him a half hearted grin. Lance just shakes his head and waves his hand like he’s dismissing Keith. 

“Let’s get _super, fucking, drunk_.” Matt demands. 

They all walk back to the Zeta house, and even Professor Coran comes alongs. Pidge is sitting atop Hunk’s shoulders, face buried in his hair while he chatters excitedly with Shiro. Keith falls into step beside Lance, who seems- distant. “Hey.” Keith bumps him and Lances trips a little, “Good thing we had a juggernaut for that last inning.” 

Lance doesn’t look at Keith, “Yeah, for sure.” 

Keith’s stomach hurts, “Lance, are you okay?” 

Lance looks up at Keith like he’s very much _not_ okay. “It’s just- Pidge and Hunk.”

“You’re upset that Pidge and Hunk are together?” Keith’s not registering.

“No, listen- Pidge and Hunk, they’re- they’ve been best friends for so long, you know?” Keith nods, because, yes, he does know. “And it worked out so well, and it must be, like, really difficult, right? For you?” 

Keith has no idea what Lance is talking about, and he wrinkles his nose, “I’m really happy for them, why wouldn’t I be?” 

Lance stops walking, and Keith has to backtrack a few steps towards him, “Did you wish that was you? With me?” 

Keith groans, “See, this is why I didn’t want you to ever find out. I don’t- I don’t expect _anything_ from you, Lance. Just- fuck- just, be my friend, okay?” 

Keith starts walking, and now it’s Lance’s turn to try and keep up, “Keith, I’m sorry.” He sounds like he’s in pain, “I don’t want to make it harder on you, but I think we need to talk about this. How are we supposed to go back to acting like it was when your-” Lance stops at the front step of the Zeta house, “When you’re in love with me.” 

“I don’t know, Lance.” Keith says, with just a little more venom than he had planned, “But I did a hell of a job dealing with it for eight fucking years, so either you stay my friend or after this year, we can go our separate ways.” 

Lance closes his eyes, breathes deeply and pushes past Keith into the house. Someone’s already put on music and Allura presses a shot glass into Keith’s hand. “Hey, you look like you could use this.” She nods, her perfect silver curls bouncing around her face. 

“Aren’t you a professor?” Keith takes the shot anyway.

“Yeah.” Allura chirps happily, “But don’t tell on me, okay?” She holds out her pinky and Keith wraps his own around it, shaking it once. 

 

Keith gets into a game of Ring of Fire with Taylor and three other guys from the soccer team. “Keith’s super cool, he’s a Creative Writing major and he’s gay.” Taylor slurs and the rest of the guys nod like that’s super interesting information. Keith’s too drunk to care. A few of them say ‘Hi, Keith’ like they’re at an AA meeting. 

“Here, try this rum, it’s called Hemingway.” One of Taylor’s friends, -James, Keith thinks- puts the bottle in front of Keith, “Just like that writer. Do you like his stuff?”

Keith takes a swig from the bottle, “Who doesn’t?” He puts the bottle down hard.

“The Lord is my shepherd- I shall not want him for long.” Lance drops into the seat next to Keith and waves to the rest of the table, “Hi, I’m Lance.” 

A chorus of “Hi, Lance.” 

Keith runs his finger over the top of the rum bottle, “So how long are you going to sit here before you decide it’s too weird for you to be my friend. Again.” Keith leans in close to Lance’s face, can smell the alcohol on Lance as well. 

“I’ve already decided that it is.” Lance drums his fingers against the table and Keith rolls his eyes. He’s about to throw in his hand of cards, go simper in a corner, when Lance brings his hand up into Keith’s hair, right underneath his now loose ponytail and curls his fingers hard. Keith flinches, because it sort of hurts, but also because it feels really good. He leans his face against Keith’s, lips pressed against Keith’s ear and says, “I don’t want to just be your friend.” Keith whimpers, because he just can’t help it, and he can only imagine what he looks like, because there’s a few snickers from the table and their goalie, Bryan, says “He must’ve said some real dirty shit to him, look at his face.” 

Taylor gives Keith a wry look and Lance is leaning back in his chair, licking his bottom lip. “I’m not going to be your sexual awakening, Lance.” Keith leans away from him a little, props his elbow up on the table, “And I’m not going to be your friend with benefits.” He doesn’t care that a quarter of the University soccer team is watching them like they’re a particularly interesting soap opera. 

“Right, well-” Lance grabs an empty shot glass and rubs the rim of it against his shirt, “I didn’t say that, did I?” He’s pouring himself a shot and throwing it back quickly, “Do you really want to sit here and talk about our feelings in front of a bunch of people we just met tonight?”

“I’ve known Taylor for about a week now.” Keith snaps. He’s being as aggressive about it as Lance is, and he’s not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else, but he can’t quite comprehend if they’re fighting or not. 

Taylor lifts his beer to Keith. Lance ignores him entirely, “Let’s go talk somewhere?” He’s whispering in Keith’s ear again, and his thumb brushes over Keith cheekbone and Keith- well, Keith is not _that_ strong. Lance gets up, disappears out of the dining room and Keith is left staring at the table. 

“So,” Maybe-James says, “Is Lance, your boyfriend?” 

Keith just says “uh.” 

“Lance is Keith’s best friend.” Taylor supplies and the other three boys are laughing, because the situation really is absolutely fucking ridiculous. “Keith, go!” Taylor smacks his hand on the table in front of him and Keith startles. 

Keith says “Uh” Again and then nods his head, throwing his playing cards onto the table. Lance isn’t in the living room, but Keith was sort of expecting that, and he pushes past a group of people chatting outside the hallway bathroom. Pidge is texting on her phone in the line and she grabs Keith’s wrist. “You look like you couldn’t even tell me your name right now. It’s Keith, by the way.” She says and Keith ruffles her hair.

“I’m not that drunk. Little buzzed.” He holds up with thumb and forefinger and squints at her, “Hey, have you seen Lance?” 

“Upstairs, his room, i’m guessing. Waiting in lingerie perhaps?” She grins. 

Keith notices a rather impressive hickey just above her collar and presses his thumb to it, “Nice.” He taps her nose and she just gives him a smug look, “Lingerie would be- cool.” Now he’s thinking about Lance and lingerie and _that’s distracting_. 

Pidge snorts at him and Keith drags himself up the stairs, past the caution tape that Shiro no doubt put up to keep people out of their bedrooms. It’s dark on the second floor, only a dim amount of light coming from the strand of christmas lights that Hunk has hanging in his room. “Lance?” Keith feels like he’s in a horror movie. Or a porno. He’s hoping for the porno. “Are we playing hide and seek?” 

Fingers wrap around his wrist and he almost jumps out of his skin, but Lance turns him around deftly, runs his free hand up underneath Keith’s shirt. He’s vaguely aware he’s being kissed, but it takes a moment to register what that _actually_ means, and by that time, Lance is pressing him against the wall, tongue working between Keith’s lips. He regretfully pushes Lance away from him, breathing uneven, “This doesn’t seem like talking.” He hates how needy his voice sounds. 

“Keith,” Lance sounds wrecked and it’s doing terrible terrible things to Keith’s constitution. “Tell me if you don’t want this.” His fingers are playing along the waistband of Keith’s basketball shorts and they do nothing to hide his growing erection. 

“You know I do.” Keith whines, and Lance is kissing his neck, “But, I can’t- Lance, stop.” Lance is still so close to him, eyes hazy with lust and a little bit of alcohol and he bites his lip like it pains him to not be kissing Keith. 

“I thought you would be really into this.” It’s not cocky or mean, the way Lance says it. It’s soft and Lance looks genuinely afraid that he’s blurred Keith’s line of consent. 

Keith sighs, and his eyes sting. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Lance. Not while he’s tipsy and pressed against a wall. “I am, I’m super into this. But that’s the problem.” He reaches out, brushes his fingertips through the soft hair hanging over Lance’s forehead, almost to his eyes. Keith briefly thinks about how much he likes Lance with his hair growing out like this. “I can’t just hook up with you sometimes, or be a pity fuck or something. This isn’t a case of me needing to get off. If we- If we do this, I’m not going to be able to go back. Fuck, I don’t even know how I’m going to kiss anyone else ever again after tonight.” 

Lance laughs and it’s short and humorless, “And here I thought you were the smart one.” He runs his hands over his face, “Keith, _I don’t want you to kiss anyone else ever again_. Do you get that, are you comprehending this?” He gestures wildly between them, “Just kiss _me_. Every morning and night, and when we graduate, and when we’re going grey and fucking old and mean. You’re my best friend, and I want you, _I want you_.” 

Keith stares at him, heart rabbiting in his chest, “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“Because I didn’t know what it was that I was feeling until you decided to yell it at Pidge on the fucking lawn. Please, give me some verbal confirmation here, can we be a thing? Can you be my boyfriend so I can hold your hand and fight with you about what flavor toothpaste we’re gonna use?” 

Keith’s just nodding, dizzy with adrenaline and excitement and love, _he’s so fucking in love_ , “Yeah, yeah, that’s- holy shit, yeah.” 

Lance sighs in relief, kisses Keith softly under his eye and across the bridge of his nose, “Can I fuck you now?”

“Yeees.” Keith whines like an insolent child and Lance is dragging him into his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him with his heel. Lance’s room is incredibly clean for a college aged boy living in a frat house and Keith gets briefly distracted by how nice Lance’s sheets smell when Lance presses him into his bed. And apparently he’s said it out loud, because Lance is laughing and pulling his shirt off and says,

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m about to fuck you so hard into this mattress.” 

“Romantic.” Keith bites his lip when Lance pushes his gym shorts and boxers off in one fluid motion. He’s got the perfect swimmer’s body, all lean muscle and broad shoulders and Keith lets his gaze drop down between Lance’s legs and he lets out a needy whimper, “Holy shit.” 

Lance actually lets a moment of self consciousness flash across his face, “What?” 

Keith reaches out and grabs Lance’s hands, pulls him on top of him, “Not that your hellish ego needs it, but you’re really big.” Lance gets _that look_ and Keith groans, “Great, now you’re going to ruin it aren’t you?” 

“Gonna ruin your ass with my big fat-”

“Lance!” Keith can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him and Lance is giggling into his neck, trying to kiss him, but really just pressing his mouth against Keith and laughing. “You’re the worst.” Keith chuckles and Lance just beams at him, grinding his hips down hard. Keith groans and it feels _incredible_.

“C’mon, take this off.” Lance starts pulling at Keith’s shirt, but he’s not making much of an effort to move off the top of him, so Keith ends up having to awkwardly shimmy out of it, while Lance stays in the way. He’s not a hugely self conscious person by nature, and being naked around people isn’t an issue for Keith. Usually. But he hasn’t ever wanted anyone as bad as he’s wanted Lance, and even though they’ve seen each other naked plenty of times, the context was vastly different. He feels pale and awkward and for a wild moment he thinks about crossing his arms over his chest, but Lance grabs Keith’s forearms gently and runs his thumbs over the soft skin there. “You’re so beautiful.” Lance says it, and it’s breathless and honest and Keith feels like an animal caught in the headlights. He’s kissing Keith again, slow and languid and drags the palms of his hands over the smooth planes of Keith’s stomach. 

As much as it pains him to break the kiss, Keith pushes Lance away gently, “I need to-” He nods down to his basketball shorts, “Gotta get them off.” He huffs and Lance sits back, right between Keith’s outstretched legs, naked and proud. 

Keith shifts to hook his thumbs in his shorts and Lance makes a noise, “Do it slowly.” He’s got his lip pulled between his teeth and he looks like he might be teasing, but then he’s moving his hand down into his lap and stroking himself languidly. Keith almost chokes on his own spit, which is decidedly the most unsexy thing he could do in the moment. 

“I don’t have any music though.” Keith tries for a joke, but he’s pushing his shorts down slowly, boxers still hanging on around his waist, “Don’t you dare start fucking beatboxing.” He warns and Lance laughs, but it’s breathy. Keith pushes his underwear down, has to untangle it from his ankles, and Lance licks his lips. Keith groans and collapses backwards onto the bed, “God, don’t do things like that. I’m gonna come before you even touch me, and then you’re going to make fun of me for the rest of the week.” 

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna find something to make fun of you for anyway after tonight.” Lance crawls over the top of him, “Can I suck you off?” He says it so earnestly, like he’s asking Keith if he can borrow some socks and Keith just nods stupidly. Lance kisses him down his neck and across his chest, “Good, ‘cause you look so fucking sexy.” Keith’s still streaked with dirt from the playing field and he still has his hair in a ponytail, that’s probably a complete mess by now, but Lance drags his tongue up the entirety of Keith’s length and Keith twists his fists into Lance’s nice, clean sheets. Lance takes him all the way to the back of his throat, grips Keith’s thighs so Keith’s can’t do much more than lean up on his elbows and watch as Lance slides back off, a string of saliva from his bottom lip to the tip of Keith’s dick.

“Lance.” Keith says his name but it’s more of a whiny, squeaky sound. Lance drags his tongue over the head of his dick lightly and grins like Keith’s a particularly adorable kitten.

“Do you want me to fuck you tonight, or do you want to fuck me?” He asks, stroking Keith with a slick hand. Keith thinks he might die. He knows so many embarrassing, dumb things about Lance, he didn’t think Lance would be so _fucking hot_ in bed, despite his fantasies. 

Lance is hanging half of the bed, leaning awkwardly over the top of Keith to shuffle through his bedside table, coming back with lube and a condom. Keith’s still staring at him, so Lance shakes the condom expectantly. “I- uh-” Smooth, “Fuck me.” 

Lance winks at him, crawls back down Keith’s body and takes him back into his mouth. The bottle snaps open, and he flinches a little when he feels cold liquid drips down behind his balls and over his opening. Lance hums in apology and Keith moans. And then Lance is running two fingers over his hole, pressing only light enough to tease, and it isn’t until Keith is thrashing underneath him, that Lance presses one of those fingers in, slow and deep. 

Lance takes his time, sucks Keith off with precision while fingering him open, and Keith is reduced to such a needy mess on Lance’s bed, that his isn’t aware of the tears collected in the corner of his eyes until Lance is kissing his way back up Keith’s body and presses his free hand to it. Keith blinks up at him and Lance kisses the bridge of his nose quickly before saying, “Crying during sex is definitely going to get brought up tomorrow.” Keith makes a sad noise and Lance laughs, “But right now, I think it’s sweet.” 

He slips his fingers out of Keith’s body and Keith wants to complain about the loss. But lance is pulling open the condom packet with his teeth, rolling it onto himself, and dripping more lube over it. He wipes the excess on Keith’s stomach and Keith grimaces. Lance slides off the bed though, grabs Keith’s ankle and pulls him over to the side. Keith giggles like he’s drunk (which he’s not anymore, thank you very much), but Lance pushes into him in one solid thrust and Keith claps a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out. 

Keith’s no blushing virgin, but Lance is _big_ , and he’s gripping Keith’s hips and driving into him at an already brutal pace. “Lance, oh god, Lance.” He’s yelling Lance’s name loud enough that anyone who may have been unlucky enough to retire early from the party to come upstairs, can definitely hear him. 

“I always knew you would look sexy like this.” Lance grits out. 

“Always- knew?” Keith’s voice is a choked off stutter, but he still angles for teasing and Lance leans over the top of him, hands bracketing Keith’s face. 

He slows his pace, moves his hips slower and deeper, “Yeah, always.” He pants out, “I’ve thought about this a lot.” 

Keith brings his hand up to drag his fingertips across Lance’s cheek, and Lance closes his eyes, leans into Keith’s touch. He’s got one knee up on the bed, pressing into Keith at an angle that hits so deep that it has Keith arching off the bed. Lance kisses him, nibbles at his bottom lip, but Keith is so lost on Lance that he can only mumble syllables against his mouth, gripping at his shoulders desperately. “You’re so good for me, feel so good, Keith.” Lance praises, pushing Keith’s hair off his forehead, “I love you so much, baby.” 

Keith comes then, completely untouched and gasping Lance’s name. Lance moves to pull out, to finish with his hand, but Keith grabs Lance’s ass, pulls him tight against him. He shakes his head, “Keep going.” He’s over sensitive and Lance watches Keith’s face carefully, “Please?” Keith begs quietly and Lance curses, hips stuttering against Keith. He swats Keith’s hands away, goes back to fucking him steadily and Keith’s afraid he’s going to tear the sheets to ribbons. 

Lance doesn’t last long, his thrusts becoming erratic and uneven, until he finally pushes in as deep as he can and comes with a sigh. 

They stay tangled together for a while, until finally Lance pulls out and Keith winces, spreading himself naked across Lance’s bed and enjoying the cool air on his body. “That’s a nice sight.” Lance says from across the room, where he’s throwing away the condom and grabbing a dirty t-shirt out of his laundry to wipe Keith down. 

He’s carefully dragging the shirt down Keith’s belly and Keith cracks an eye open at him, “You said you love me.” 

Lance hums and tosses the shirt onto the floor, wrapping his comforter tightly around both of them, like a sweaty, naked burrito, “I did. Because I do.” He rubs his hands down Keith’s side like it’s helping him get comfortable. He kisses Keith softly, “I love you. And your silly ponytail, and your bad eighties pants. I love your Liz Taylor eyes-”

“What?”

“She had violet eyes.” Lance grins, “Don’t interrupt me, this is important. I love your reissue Reeboks, and I love your stupid laugh you do when you’re watching action films and someone blows up. I love that you love me.” 

Keith is glad it’s dark in the room because he can tell that his face is bright red, “This is so cheesy, Lance.” Lance doesn’t seem to care though, just buries his face in Keith’s neck. And Keith runs his fingers through Lance’s sweaty hair and lets himself fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being really long. And I was going to try and end the story this chapter but it got pretty out of control so... ONE MORE CHAPTER


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah better (8 months) late than never!

“I don’t understand what I’m looking at.” It’s less of a ‘packet’ and more of a ‘tome’ sitting on the coffee table and Keith runs his hand up the back of his neck. It’s freshly cut and he’s not used to this much of his skin being exposed. It’s a bit cold. 

Hunk looks over at the top sheet of paper and hums, but doesn’t offer any real explanation. “Hey, do you like pistachio ice cream?”

Keith cards through the papers and sighs, “I don’t think I’ve ever had it.” He admits. Hunk just hums again. “Why is this so complicated? I’m just trying to graduate, don’t they want me to leave?”

“Eh, they give you that sort of shit so that they can try and raw dog you for alumni cash.” Hunk taps his nose.

Keith blinks and narrows his eyes, “That’s disgusting.” An image of all the old men up in the administrator's offices flashes in his mind. 

“You look handsome, by the way.” Hunk has his feet propped up on the table, a fresh tan line where his flip flops usually cover. He places one large hand firmly on the back of Keith’s neck, the warm skin a welcome sensation after the loss of his hair. “Did you make reservations for tonight?” 

Keith worries his bottom lip and puts his pen down a little too harshly, “Yes, you were there when I called.” 

He feels bad, snapping at Hunk like that, but he’s all anxiety at the moment. Hunk seems to understand and forgive him, “I try not to eavesdrop on your phone calls, dude.” Keith runs his hands solidly over the tops of his knees, sighs, leans forward like he might stand, then sighs again. “Tell Hunk what’s wrong.” Hunk gestures to Keith, arm slung across the back of the couch. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” Keith blurts out. Hunk closes his eyes gently and nods, pure understanding. “I don’t know how to graduate, and I have a masters degree now, but what the fuck am I supposed to do with it? Use it as a place mat?” 

“I use my bachelor’s as a mouse pad.” Hunk tells him.  
They don’t live in the frat house anymore. Everyone’s long since graduated, and Keith stuck around to get a Master’s degree because he didn’t know what else to do with his free time. He had gotten a place just outside of town, where rent was a little cheaper and the neighborhood was a little bit quieter. When he had first gotten it, Keith’s plan was to live on his own for a while- figure out who he was and what he wanted. It lasted an entire two weeks before he was telling Lance he could leave his toothbrush there if he wanted. “Hunk, what if he thinks I look stupid?” 

It’s not just about the haircut, or maybe it is. Hunk shakes his head, “He won’t, and you look pretty sexy.” 

“Hunk-” His voice breaks a little on his friend’s name, “What if he says no?” It barely audible, but Hunk collects Keith up into his arms, dropping a solid wet kiss on his temple. 

“Keith, please breathe.” Hunk deposits him back onto the couch, “It’s going to be fine.”

“But what if he likes having his own place? What if it’s too soon?” Keith’s voice cracks and he stands up to pace the living room. Pidge doesn’t open the front door, so much as she kicks it in, arms full of groceries. 

“Oh, Kogane, I can barely see you over this shit, but you look amazing!” She keeps her hair cut in a short pixie style these days. 

It’s a welcomed distraction, but short lived. Keith makes himself helpful and grabs on the larger bags off of Pidge’s being. It’s a suspicious enough move that it has Pidge regarding him over the top of her massive round sunglasses. “The hell has you all worked up?” Everything lands on the counter in a graceless thud. Hunk comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and she practically disappears in his embrace. 

“Keith’s nervous because he’s going to ask Lance to move in with him tonight. He thinks he’s going to get _rejected_.” Hunk rubs his nose against her hair until it’s sufficiently fluffed.

Pidge furrows her impressive eyebrows, “It’s been six years, man. He stays over all the time. Like _all the time_.” Keith doesn’t answer her, just makes a whining noise. “Hang on, are you really scared about this?” 

More whining and Keith glances at the clock, “Listen, you guys have been enlightening, as per usual, but I gotta go. I have reservations and I told Lance I would meet him there so-” They don’t respond, not that they can. Keith is halfway down their driveway by the time he’s finished with his though, fumbling for his car keys.

It takes fifteen minutes to get the Italian restaurant that he’s made reservations at, and Keith lets his car idle in the parking lot. His forehead falls roughly against the steering wheel and he sighs. He knows Lance better than this- knows that this isn’t something he should be so worried about. Worst case scenario has Lance telling him he’d rather have his own space to retreat to, but he _‘Still love you, I just like my apartment’_. It’s reasonable enough, but Keith aches with the want to have Lance inhabiting the same space as him. He would even move into Lance’s crappy one bedroom apartment if it made him happy. 

“Okay.” He huffs out and kicks off the ignition, fixing his tie in the rearview mirror. 

Lance is standing by the front door, talking to a little girl waiting with her parents. She’s completely enamored with Lance, the poor thing, and Keith clears his throat. Lance regards him like an alien that’s just crash landed right on his foot, and for a horrible moment, Keith thinks getting a haircut was the world’s worst choice. He’s contemplating the quickest escape routes when Lance throws his arms around his neck and makes a noise so loud and so close to Keith’s ear that he ponders death. “Holy cr-” Lance looks at the little girl, “Crow! Keith, did you cut your hair?” 

Keith wants to tease him, tell him ‘of course I did’, or ask him if he likes it, but he is all nerves and poorly communicated emotion, so he just narrows his eyes at Lance instead. Lance looks incredible, because it’s literally the only state he does exist in. His skin looks soft and glowy in the evening light. Keith kisses him on the cheek, because he can- a thought that never gets old. He smells nice and his skin is, in fact, very soft. “I love it.” Lance digs his fingers into the short black strands at Keith’s neck, “I can’t believe you get hotter.” He whispers it like it’s missile codes. 

Proper words are a thing of the past, and Keith can feel himself turn an alarming shade of red. He buries his face in Lance’s neck. “We should go inside.” Keith tells him finally. 

Lance talks a mile a minute. About his sisters and his students and the world’s best strawberry shortcake that Hunk made, and was better than his world’s best strawberry shortcake that he made last week. It’s all very in line with typical Lance behavior, but there’s the way that Lance keeps failing to make eye contact with him that’s making Keith nervous. He picks at the tablecloth once they’re seated and Keith is mesmerised by his fidgeting. “So how did you find this place?” Lance asks his lap.

Keith frowns, “Hunk told me about it.” 

“Oh, then you know it’s gotta be good.” He grins, all white teeth and dimpled cheeks. Something isn’t right. 

The waiter asks them if they would like to try a bottle of their finest red wine, and Keith considers asking if he has anything stronger, before Lance tells him that they definitely would. When he’s gone, Lance places his hands on top of the table, palms upward for Keith to place his own hands there. He leans forward a little to kiss Keith’s knuckles, “Hey, I really love you.” He tells him. 

The thing about Lance, is that his feelings are a saturday night marquee, on display for everyone to find fascination with. They’re overwhelming and massive and Keith never knows what to do with all of it. He digs his teeth into his bottom lip. “It’s been how long and you’re still not used to it?” Lance laughs, but it’s nervous and a little fearful. 

Keith thinks he might throw up, “Lance-” He looks at the people dining around them, wondering if his discomfort is noticeable enough that they can also feel it. “I-” He’s making an absolute mess of this and Lance’s face falls to something unrecognizable. It’s an open invitation to witness his fearfulness. His bottom lip trembles just enough that Keith can see it and he leans forward to press his thumb there. “Don’t be upset.” He pleads, and he hopes that Lance can hear that this isn’t anything bad, “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking this up.” He holds out his hands, “Lance, will you move in with me?” 

Lance stares at him, frozen across from Keith. Then his big blue eyes get watery and he buries his face in his hands, muffling a small cry. Keith had considered a lot of scenarios, but one where Lance started crying in the middle of the restaurant wasn’t one of them. Their waiter comes back, looking from Lance to Keith and pouring both of their wine glasses to the brim before fleeing. “Lance?” 

He’s trying to dry his eyes on the back of his sleeve, and he sighs, “Yes, of course I’ll move in with you.” The relief leaves Keith feeling a little high. “I thought you were breaking up with me.” He admits, and just saying the words makes Lance’s voice waver. 

Keith startles, “What? In the middle of a date? This is like, the nicest restaurant we’ve ever been to. I _showered_ for this.” Lance barks out a laugh and making Lance smile will never _not_ feel like an accomplishment. “You’re really edgy today, did you really think I planned a romantic dinner to leave you?” 

Lance snorts, “No, I’m sorry, I just-” He shifts a little in his seat, “I wanted to ask you something to.”

“You wanted me to move into your apartment?” Keith lights up, because that would be just their sort of stupid. 

The waiter ventures back over, having sense a calm, and Lance drinks about half of his glass of wine in an impressive call back on his frat boy nature, “No, fuck that place, it’s awful and the wifi is a joke.” Keith laughs, but their waiter looks more impressed by Lance’s colorful language. More shifting and Lance has his tongue caught between his teeth.

“Please don’t pick wedgies at the dinner table.” Keith groans and vows to tip their waiter extra tonight. 

“Oh, to hell with you, Kogane.” Lance mumbles, before lighting up and holding a closed fist in the air, “Keith, light of my life, my sun and moon, father of my children-” Keith covers his eyes and the waiter hugs the menus to his chest, clearly interested to see how this conversation is meant to pan out, “You’re my best friend.” The way Lance says it has Keith looking up at him, “You will always be my best friend, and there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t fall even more in love with you.” He places a small black ring on the center of the table and pushes it forward gently with his finger, “Will you marry me?” 

Keith’s world narrows down to this. The black ring, Lance holding his shaking hand with clammy fingers, and his breath completely stolen away by it all. “I- you want me to- I would be your husband?” 

Words worthy of a master’s degree graduate, “Yeah.” Lance grins, though his voice still shakes. 

“Yeah.” Keith repeats and picks up the ring. “Yeah, I’ll definitely do that.” 

Lance slips the ring onto Keith’s finger and kisses his knuckles. “That was- interesting.” Their waiter interrupts, “Congratulations.” He says, and it sounds genuine. 

“I’m getting married.” Keith says stupidly, holding up his hand.

The waiter laughs, “You are.” He puts a menu in Keith’s palm and Keith just holds it in a daze. 

“We’re getting married.” He says the words out loud like they’ll make the reality of Lance actually wanting to spend the rest of his life with him, solid. 

“We are.” Lance says, eyes as bright and promising as they were when they were thirteen and he taught Keith how to slow dance in his mom’s kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on tumblr!! inkandowl


End file.
